Every Third Thursday
by Cass Edes
Summary: Once a month, Petunia sneaks out of her house to have tea with someone-and receive information


Petunia took her coat down from the hook and reached for her hat, just like she did at three o'clock every third Tuesday of the month, and started for the door.

With Vernon at work and Dudley off at Smeltings, there was rarely anyone home to question her comings and goings as she hurried down the street to Arabella Figg's house. Knocking, she waited a moment in the frigid wind before the door opened, a cat slipping out as Mrs Figg said, "Come in, come in. My it is cold out there, isn't it!" The old woman ushered Petunia inside and leaned out the door again.

"Mr. Tibbles!" she called to the tabby currently sitting on the frozen birdbath, "You'll catch your death out there! Come inside, or I won't let you in once you've had enough." She made as if to shut the door, and with a yowl of alarm the cat streaked back inside. As he ran past Petunia, she noticed a bit of a tuft on the end of his tail, like a lion's but decided to put it from her mind.

"That tom is a bit of a strong cross, very stubborn he is. You'll be wanting the latest news, I expect," said Arabella, hobbling into the kitchen. "I'll put the kettle on and then we can chat."

Petunia had been visiting Mrs. Figg for tea once a month for the last two-and-a-half years, ever since... Well, ever since the boy had gone off to that horrid school. In the letter Dumbledore had left her when her nephew was a baby, he had said she could go to Mrs. Figg with any of her concerns or if she needed help.

Later that week, Arabella had come around to introduce herself and "meet the baby" she'd said. She had been surprised there were two in the house, but the story had quickly been concocted and accepted without a problem. She'd pulled Petunia aside and told her that if she ever needed help, of ANY kind, she should feel free to ask. "It would be an honor, an absolute honor," the woman had said, tears in her eyes.

She'd only gone to her neighbor a few times, to ask for help in keeping the boy when her family was out, but she had made it very clear-and so had others, she was informed-that Harry WAS NOT TO KNOW.

Petunia didn't want to know either.

Until, shaken from the incident on the island, she had rushed into the other woman's home, crying hysterically about a tail and an umbrella, and how she'd hoped they'd stamped it out of him but what was she supposed to do now? Mrs. Figg had made her a cup of tea, sat down, and explained things.

Not everything. Not even close. Just enough to know that her nephew was (and the word pained her to say) magic... just like her sister had been. Just like she and Dudley were not. That as a mere baby, he'd somehow overcome an evil force, the same one that killed Lily and her husband. People who would know-she mentioned the same odd name that gigantic man had mentioned-said that the same evil was on the rise again, and the best way to keep her nephew and her family safe was to send him off to school, but to keep him for the summers. Harry would be in danger there, but he would be the safest he could be.

That was all Petunia Dursley wanted to know about the magic world. In fact, more than she cared to know. But she found herself drawn to visit Mrs. Figg again and again, to hear that her nephew was fine at school, that she and her family were safe at home.

The steaming cup of tea landing on the saucer in front of her brought her back to the present. "That man, Sirius Black? He's still at large, but I don't think he knows where you are, so don't be alarmed," Arabella said, fussing around the table before sitting herself. "He's only looking for Harry."

"So there's no news on where he is? He's not anywhere near here?" Petunia wrapped her shaking hands around the warm cup and sipped, feeling herself relax fractionally.

"No, no news at all. But there's no need to worry about Harry, either. There are dementors guarding his school, you know. If anything, Harry should worry about those. He fell off his broom at the last Quidditch match... I'm sorry. I don't suppose you'd want me to explain what dementors are?"

"Don't they guard the wizard prison?" Petunia said absently, lost in contemplation of her tea.

"Yes, they do, in fact. Fancy you knowing that." Mrs. Figg bustled into the kitchen with her tea things, calling over her shoulder, "And they're furious about Black getting loose. I wouldn't want to be him, not with those things after me. Is there anything else you need?"

Petunia knew she wasn't just talking about the tea. "No, thank you. I'll need to be going soon. Thank you very much, Arabella." Standing, she put her coat and hat back on, sneezing. A cat must have sat on them. Walking back out into the chilly afternoon, she shivered not from cold, but from uncertainty and fear. How was she expected to protect her family from this other world? As she opened her own front door, she consoled herself with the thought that at least they were safe for now. At least until next month.

**All characters belong to the great and powerful Rowling, I just was lying in bed the other night and this sprang into my head fully formed. If you like it, drop me a review saying so? Please? I thrive on affirmation. And constructive criticism. Either one. All mistakes are mine and will be promptly corrected when pointed out. Thank you!**


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